


Maker Please Have Mercy

by bismoran



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Gags, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Sub!Maric, post-The Stolen Throne but pre-Origins, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2353583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bismoran/pseuds/bismoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift for a friend. Loghain/Maric PWP, because this ship needs more fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maker Please Have Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I wrote PWP, because apparently I have no talent in writing more advanced literature between Maric and Loghain ATM. As mentioned in the summary, this was a gift for tumblr user queenofeden, who has a cool blog and you should check out.

The gag in Maric’s mouth wasn’t really a gag, per-se. It was a piece from one of the few sets of leather armor he owned, repurposed for this task. It tasted odd in his mouth, somewhat like blood in one’s mouth tasted like.

His arms were bound and hanging on a hook above the door, probably a hook for putting up heavy paintings the Usurper put up, back when this castle was his. The rope was just barely too short to reach, and Maric had to stand on his toes slightly to reach it.

And he wore nothing except an amulet that sat around his neck.

“I should have thought of this before,” Loghain said, something of a laugh on his voice. “Back when we were in the Wilds together and you wouldn’t shut up for five bloody minutes.” He reached a hand out and stroked at Maric’s side, one of the more sensitive parts of the king’s body. He did laugh when he saw Maric’s eyes flutter closed, and saw him swallow, and let out a groan barely muffled by the gag. “Maybe I could have gotten us out sooner, without your constant chatting.”

They’d played this game before. It started with Loghain clapping his hand over Maric’s mouth when the two had taken to the king’s tent together, once or twice, back during the rebellion. Before Katriel…Before any of that.

But Maric had goaded Loghain further and further, rope ties, gags, biting, spankings, choking, and in truth, Loghain didn’t mind it. It made one feel powerful, to see one’s sovereign in submissive positions, and to know you were the one to put him there, and not only that, but that he trusted you to put him there was one of the most gratifying experiences Loghain had ever had.

Maric was hard. His cock jutted out, red and needy, not wanting to be ignored. But it would just have to wait. Loghain wanted to have his fun first.

He grabbed his friend, his lover’s, jaw gently, forcing Maric to look him in the eyes, letting his thumb run absently along the space between the blond man’s jaw and his ear. Maric’s pupils were huge, like saucers, and the blue of his eyes seemed darker somehow, as Loghain looked at him.

His pale face was flushed and sweaty, and he stared at Loghain the way Loghain imagined a follower of Andraste would look upon Her if She and them were to meet. He brushed a gentle kiss to Maric’s cheek, just above the gag and grinned to himself as he heard the noise Maric made behind the gag. 

"I love seeing you needy like this," Loghain whispered, feeling the shudder Maric let out as his eyes fell closed from the words. 

Maric’s legs felt like they were going to give out. He had strong calf muscles, it was true, but keeping the muscles of his calves flexed as they were was making them start to feel stiff, painful.

Loghain must have noticed, he’d learned, through years of battling aside Maric to read his body language, and reached up and pulled the loop of rope holding Maric in the position he’d been in, from the hook, and carefully guided Maric to his knees. Then he stepped back a few feet, watching the king.

It was odd to Maric that Loghain could one moment be rough with him, be violent with him, and then the next moment be gentle. It was an unspoken rule between the two of them that any pain Maric felt from this would only be intentional pain. There would be no accidents that left the King with bruises. The only bruises that would mar his pale skin would be those left by Loghain. It made him feel safe, to know that was true.

Loghain looked down at the king, there on his knees, keeping his eyes locked with Maric’s. He was still fully dressed, for the first time Maric could remember in a long while, not in the Orlesian plate he’d looted from a dead commander at the battle of River Dane, but instead in brown trousers, and a loose linen shirt that Maric was fairly certain was actually his own, based on the way it fit the taller man.

“I want you to suck me,” Loghain instructed. He took a few steps forward, closing some, though not all, of the space between them. He apparently expected Maric, with his bound arms, and his bound ankles to crawl over to him, and Maric’s cheeks flushed a little as the image of himself, bound as he was, trying to crawl towards Loghain, wanting so bad to suck him off, to please him. The image was so embarrassing, but it turned him on so bad. He forced himself to crawl forward, struggling as he did, feeling something like an inch-worm as he crawled, the lack rope that had been tied to the door trailing.

Once he finally got to Loghain, he struggled to get himself upright, and to stay that way, his bound arms interfering with his ability to do so. During his final attempt, he nearly fell forward onto his elbows, in what would have likely been hard enough to hurt badly, had Loghain not caught him by the shoulder and guided him upright.

“Good,” Loghain praised. He didn’t praise Maric often, but when he did, it made Maric feel so glad, That he made Loghain pleased.

 

The dark-haired man unbuttoned the buttons on his trousers, one by one, and pulled them down, along with his small-clothes, revealing his own cock, just as hard as Maric’s was.

The moment Loghain undid the strap on the gag, Maric moved forward and began to suck, letting his tongue work over the tip, licking, sucking, doing everything he knew Loghain liked.

Loghain held on as tightly as he could to his control, even now, letting only small breaths escape his mouth when he wanted to make louder noises. He wasn’t vocal about what he was feeling, pain or pleasure. He had, after all, once taken a mace to the chest without a single complaint about his injury or the bleeding. He held back his moans the same way he’d held back pain then.

It was overwhelming though, the pleasure Maric was giving him. He gripped tightly at the other man’s hair as the King used every bit of skill his mouth and throat had to make it feel amazing.

“W-We finally have found a use for that mouth of yours, haven’t we?” Loghain breathed, “Something it’s good at, other than gabbing.” His eyes closed tight now, his hands pulled a bit harder at the king’s locks. He was so close.

Maric knew he was. He kept his eyes open, and tried, as much as possible, to look up to see Loghain’s face as he did. But he couldn’t do that well, his eyes getting fuzzy as he tried to look up further, his eyes nearly rolling back in an attempt to see better.

Loghain let out a small, shuddering moan as he spilt over the edge, pursing his lips tightly once the noise had escaped, to ensure no other noises followed it.

When he was done, Maric swallowed, and fell back onto all fours, an easier position to maintain than up on his knees.

When his faculties returned to him, Loghain bent down, and undid the king’s arm bonds, and then allowed his legs to follow. The rope had been tight enough to leave rope marks cutting into his skin, but not tight enough any were deep, and his hands were numb after.

Just having Loghain touch him casually like this, so close to him, made Maric so very aware of his own erection, painful now with need, and disappointingly ignored for the time being.

“Please,” he begged Loghain, reminding the other man why he was usually gagged. It made Loghain smirk, amused. “Please touch me. Please.”

With one hand, Loghain began to card his fingers through Maric’s hair. With the other hand, he reached for Maric’s cock, giving it an experimental stroke that caused the blond man’s hips to buck into the stroke, letting out a keen.

“You're so very desperate,” the other man told him, his voice dry but affectionate. “Always.”

He gave another stroke, this time rubbing his thumb over the tip, over the now leaking slit.

“Maker please, have mercy Loghain,” Maric begged, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes half-lidded, his dark eyelashes, so striking compared to his light hair Loghain always thought, fluttering over his now pink, warm skin.

The king begging was one of few things Loghain couldn’t resist, and he began to stroke him more, quickening his pace, watching as Maric moved closer and closer to the edge.

One of these days, he'd stop jerking Maric right when he was about to fall apart completely, and listen to Maric’s pleas and whimpers. Part of him wondered if the other man would cry. Maric wasn’t one for tears, but in truth, if someone were to deny Loghain of orgasm like that, he wasn’t completely certain he wouldn’t. Or at least beg. Desperately. Luckily none of his partners had been interested in trying that, so he never would have to see.

Every single noise Maric let out, every groan, keen, moan, sharp deep breath in through his nose made Loghain’s skin feel like it was aflame. Every noise made him feel alive.

As Maric spilled over, he remembered exactly why he kept the other man gagged often for this. He was so loud, so vocal, his eyes closed, his head unconscious moving slightly, following the rhythm set by his hips. He looked so handsome, debauched like this, face, lips, neck, even his chest red and warm, his lower lip bite-marked from where he he pressed his teeth into them in a futile attempt to remain as quiet as Loghain had been. Or, you know, vaguely quiet at all.

When he was finished, Loghain reached for a towel and wiped off his hand absently, then handed it to Maric.

Neither one of them said anything for a few moments, the only noise being the annoyed sound Loghain made when the dweomer basin he was reaching for just barely skittered out of his reach and he had to go up on one knee to reach for it. They sat there quietly, cleaning themselves up, splashing cool water on their faces.

When they were finished, Loghain scooted closer to Maric, and kissed him softly, first on the forehead, then, almost chastely, on the lips.

It wasn’t words. It wasn’t the words he wanted to say, “Thank you for trusting me like you do, what the witch said be damned,” or “I love you,” Or even, “I’m so glad you are my friend, my lover.” But it was the closest Loghain could manage to get.


End file.
